Rematch!
by PeachyKeenOtter
Summary: It seems attacking people during a soccer match isn't appropriate, and now she is stuck in the teachers lounge and has to write about why she decided to lodge her foot into Jack's stomach, with him sitting right across for her.


Author's note! From last I checked the characters in this story do not have official names! So Jack=Australia and Nez= New Zealand.

Of the abundance of rules in soccer, a common one that even amateurs know is - no rough housing amongst opposing teams during a game. So, when she felt the heel of her cleat dig into his chest she knew that the loud whistle tweets were from angry coaches and what pulled on her clothing were team mates trying to drag her off. But that wasn't going to happen easily. A punch was lodged into her stomach and she retaliated with a few hearty cusswords and a fury of kicks.

Suddenly she was flung back and drenched in mud. High on adrenaline and anger, she had only one focus; getting back to kicking him. Until she was drenched in unnaturally light blue sports drink.

Two shadows loomed across the ground.

"You two, come with us. Now," her coach growled.

They were dragged off the field, leaving a trail of blue puddles. Two teammates were sent to retrieve their bags. They were pushed into the teacher's lounge, which smelled of burnt coffee and moldy bread, and was in desperate need of vacuuming. His coach pointed to two rickety chairs by a peeling black painted table.

"Sit." They obeyed.

Her coach began, brow creased with anger, "What was that?"

"A fight," Jack said.

His coach chuckled, while hers took an impatient breath, "Okay, why was that?"

"She tripped me," Jack answered.

"He purposely knocked me over," she answered.

"She knocked the water bottle out of my hand."

"He tried to pour water on me."

"She-,"

"Enough!" his coach yelled, "What I saw, was she stole the ball from you, you took the ball back, and then you accidently kicked it into her stomach."

"I wouldn't say accidently," she and Jack mumbled.

"Jack," his coach warned, "I saw your face, no one looks that surprised when it isn't an accident."

"Either way, your behavior was far from appropriate or acceptable. Jack, I know you can be a trouble maker, but fighting in the middle of a game? And Nez; A+ student, sweet to everyone, never causing any trouble, and the next thing I know your tenderizing his stomach. What happened?"

She remained silent, heart twisting and face burning with shame.

Her coach sighed and shared a mutually understanding look with his coach. "You two are going to sit here and write down why you seem to dislike each other so much."

"Yes sir," she said.

"Jack," his coach warned, "Promise to behave."

"I'll behave sir."

"Just in case, we'll be across the hall," her coach added, "Thanks to you two we have to write several letters to the student board asking to keep you in the game."

Jack perked up, "I can stay on the team?!"

She felt a twinge of relief and smiled, "Thank you, sir."

"Hopefully," Jack's coach sighed.

"Here." Two pencils and a stack of papers were thumped down before them. "Start writing."

The coaches left the room, a click of a lock was heard, making both wince. Then they looked at each other and deep angry frowns pained their faces.

"This is your fault," she whispered, grabbing pencil and paper.

"No, it's your fault!" he countered.

"You stole my snacks for an entire week in kindergarten! I fainted!" she hissed.

She began to scribble down reasons, beginning with their first meeting when they were four and he stuck a lollipop in her hair and once she got it cut out, he stuck in another.

"What about when you cut off all my hair during naptime?" he said.

"How about when you crushed my science fair volcano?" she said in an angry whisper.

"I was doing you a favor! Everyone does volcanos." he quietly cried.

"How about when you pushed me off the swing and made me break my arm?"

"You had been hogging it for half an hour! It was my turn!"

"You BROKE my ARM."

He huffed, "What about when you replaced my shaving gel with whipped cream?"

She smiled remembering when she had stopped by his house at the end of the first day of freshman year. Scars covered his chin and jaws.

"What about, in first grade, when you wrestled me down and made me eat a cricket?"

"People eat crickets all the time!"

She stood, hands slamming against the table and chair tumbling back, "Then why didn't you eat it? All the kids ignored me halfway into second grade!"

He stood, "I didn't ignore you!"

"Because you had to much fun smearing boogers on my arm, pulling my hair, stealing my jump rope, and tripping me!"

"Oh yeah? What about all the fun you had in seventh grade when you gave every girl in class a valentine, supposedly from me."

"That's not true! I gave the girl you actually liked a paper bag full of spiders!"

"So you totally deserved it when I changed your shampoo for green hair dye and stole all your bras before the dance."

"I knew that it was you! I knew it!"

A loud knock pounded against the door, "Cool it or these apology letters are going in the shredder."

They both froze, and looked at each other. Both panicked at the thought of being banned from something so monumentally important to them. She sighed and rubbed her head, a headache forming, along with aches and pains were she'd been hit.

"Remember the summers we trained, from before the sun was up until we had to play by porch light?" he whispered.

For the second time that day she felt guilty. The only time their mothers, best friends since they were children, could stop them from hurting each other was by throwing a soccer ball in between them. But now even that was ruined.

"Yes," she whispered, throat tightening.

"Hey...I'm sorry," he said.

She glared at him, "...I-I'm sorry too."

"Are you okay?" he asked and quickly added, "I didn't mean to hit you with the soccer ball.

She nodded, "Just a little sore, how are you?"

He sighed, "I feel weird, and I'm usually not like this."

She frowned, "Me neither."

"Hey Nez?"

And a second later they were kissing, his hands having trouble deciding whether to stay on her arms, neck, or attempt to run through her sticky, muddy hair. While she decided on gripping his shoulders and attempt to move the table out of the way. His lips were so soft, edged with the roughness of a 5 o'clock shadow and tinted with neediness. He wasn't her first kiss, but definitely her favorite.

"I'm never forgiving you for this," she mumbled.

"And I'm never forgetting this," a voice interrupted.

They snapped apart, turning towards the voice. Both coaches were standing there, appearing very amused.

"We were hoping at most you'd shake hands at the end."

Her cheeks burned and she tugged on her shirt hem, "W-We're, just,"

"Going home," her coach finished.

"What about the paper?" she asked.

But Jack was already saying goodbye, grabbing their soccer bags, and pushing past the coaches, "Come on, I can beat you in a backyard rematch!"

"Who says you'll beat me?" she automatically snapped back.

"Please leave before you damage anything," her coach said.

"Thank you," she breathed and then made her escape.

Jack was waiting in the parking lot, jogging in place, as he glanced around. "How much energy does he have?" she wondered.

"Actually I'm thinking about ditching the rematch, how about dinner?"

"Dinner then a rematch," she corrected.

He smiled, "You're on."


End file.
